A humanist, in the best sense of the term

Amazon made some kind of deal with the late Kurt Vonnegut (Jr.)'s estate, and has been releasing some of his previously uncollected short fiction in Kindle editions. It was uncollected for a good reason: it's mostly rather slight fare, with little of the intellectual heft or daring of his breakout Slaughterhouse Five or the underappreciated Galapagos. Nonetheless, reading it has been a helpful refresher for me.

I discovered Vonnegut during my senior year of high school, and had worked through all his published works by the time I graduated college. Having been confronted by the bleak nihilism of Cat's Cradle and Breakfast of Champions, I wasn't surprised to learn that John Irving, in whose world according to Garp we are all terminal cases, studied under Vonnegut at the Iowa Writer's Workshop. In spite of my youth, however, the nihilism wasn't why I compulsively read Vonnegut.

Instead, it was his humanism, in the best sense of the term. Vonnegut, for all his despair over humanity's fatal flaws, loved human beings and insisted on treating all people as such. That humanism informs even the early writings now being released, the stuff he wrote for popular magazines back when popular magazines published short fiction rather than cooking tips from vapid celebrities. (I can't find the quote, but I remember Vonnegut writing about selling short stories to Cosmopolitan long before it became "a harrowingly explicit sex manual.") Every page drips with compassion for his characters, even when he's making fun of them.

Cynicism is filled with contempt, and Kurt Vonnegut was no cynic. He was a humanist, in the best sense of the term, and that's why I still find his writing refreshing.

The new pilgrims & the rule of law

The Sept. 20 edition (I'm only a month behind in podcast listening!) of Research on Religion was a discussion with Joseph Castleberry on his recent book, The New Pilgrims. The discussion focused primarily on the religious and entrepreneurial vitality of both legal and illegal immigrants to these United States, and to that extent was interesting, but not particularly revelatory.

Things got interesting toward the end of the podcast. Many political and social conservatives oppose illegal immigrants on the simple ground that they have violated the law. Castleberry offers an intriguing counterproposal: the rule of law is a two-sided arrangement wherein the citizen (or individual) ought to obey the laws, and the government is obligated to provide just laws. Castleberry noted the widespread consensus that immigration law in these United States is "broken" and offered a skeptical read on both Democrat and Republican Party failures to reform it. In sum, Castleberry suggests that when a law is unjust, individuals ought not be faulted for breaking it.

It's a provocative observation which echoes the arguments posited in our nation's Declaration of Independence. Political and social conservatives, including Christians, who revere that Declaration would do well to consider it.

Goliath

Tom Gauld isn’t challenging the 1 Samuel 17 account of the events at the Valley of Elah, but he is asking us to consider our assumptions about Goliath of Gath. The truth of the matter is that he’s not even really interested in the historical person Goliath; instead, he’s interested in the reality and prosecution of war.

Neither Goliath nor the rest of the Philistine army seem to have much idea as to why they’re at war with the Israelites; instead, they, like armies throughout history, wait for the fighting to erupt under a vague sense of foreboding. Goliath himself ends up at a post he didn’t choose, under orders devised by an ambitious young captain. Back in the camp, some other soldiers have tied up a bear which they force to fight various other animals for sport and gambling; that literal bear becomes a metaphor when it runs away.

I always read comic books at least twice (mostly because I can’t keep myself from quickly turning pages to read dialogue, without paying sufficient heed to the art). On my second read, I made sure to go through the whole book in a single sitting so as to track Gauld’s development of the atmosphere without interruption. A plot summary cannot convey the melancholy tones conveyed by Tom Gauld’s monochromatic, cartoonish line drawings. Why doesn’t Goliath also run away? Why does any soldier in any war remain at his post, when he is at best a mere cog in a machine and a disposable weapon for a cause which means precious little to him personally? When Goliath must finally enter battle, the war is settled, but his death resolves nothing for him as an individual.

In Goliath, Tom Gauld asks us to join him in reflecting on what it means to ask men to go to war. In our time as much as any, it’s an invitation we all should accept.

The case for reparations

Quite some time ago, I concluded, with Abraham Lincoln in his Second Inaugural Address, that the Lord has already determined, and wrought, the reparations owed for the years of American chattel slavery. Credit is owed to Ta-Nehisi Coates for accomplishing the near-impossible feat of making me reconsider an opinion with his Polk-prize-winning 2014 essay, "The Case for Reparations." He powerfully demonstrates that systematic oppression of African-Americans continued long past the formal end of chattel slavery, effectively countering my assumptions regarding that for which African-Americans might be owed reparation. It's a long read, but Coates' arguments are thoughtful and deserve thoughtful engagement.

What reparations, then? How might they be gathered, administered, and distributed? Is money even the issue? At the end of section IX, Coates writes,

What I’m talking about is more than recompense for past injustices—more than a handout, a payoff, hush money, or a reluctant bribe. What I’m talking about is a national reckoning that would lead to spiritual renewal. Reparations would mean the end of scarfing hot dogs on the Fourth of July while denying the facts of our heritage. Reparations would mean the end of yelling “patriotism” while waving a Confederate flag. Reparations would mean a revolution of the American consciousness, a reconciling of our self-image as the great democratizer with the facts of our history.

Amen.

But how to effect such a spiritual renewal? Nate DiMeo, creator and producer of the elegant and wonderful The Memory Palace, has a suggestion in "Notes on an Imagined Plaque to be Added to the Statue of General Nathan Bedford Forrest, Upon Hearing that the Memphis City Counci has Voted to Move it and the Exhumed Remains of General Forrest and his Wife, Mary Ann Montgomery Forrest, from their Current Location in a Park Downtown, to the Nearby Elmwood Cemetery." DiMeo and Coates agree that in order for our nation to truly change, we must first become historically aware.

But that, in turn, must be a spiritual renewal. Our nation must want to become historically aware, to know its sins in order to make amends for them. Those who want to know their sins are those who want to repent of them because they long to lay them at the foot of the Cross of Christ.

Both Ta-Nehisi Coates and Nate DiMeo speak eloquently of the persistent and evil problem of race relations in these United States. Perhaps unwittingly, the case they make is, ultimately, a case for the preaching of the Gospel.

10. Conflict is an opportunity

I am many things, but naïve is not among them. The course I recommend is fraught with peril, and conflict is certain. But as Ken Sande points out in The Peacemaker, conflict is an opportunity to glorify God.

Conflict will emerge, first, when congregations merge and countless decisions must be made. Who will be on the new session? What will the service times be? What members will be stuck with the longer commute? Which members are used to always getting their way, and might lose that privilege should a new group of elders come in?

These are the petty conflicts, common to every Church, and while they will consume Churches for a year or several, they will surely get settled and be (more or less) forgotten. In the short run, they will suck all the oxygen out of the room, but in the long run won’t matter much.

Conflict will emerge, second, when pastors must learn to cooperate with one another, especially in pulpit ministry. Who will get the main show (I mean the morning service)? Who will be stuck with the less well-attended matinee (I mean the evening service)? Will the two men speak frankly and respectfully about each other’s preaching, with a desire to build up each other and the congregation, or launch a war over the members’ affections?

Pastoral ministry is one long, enormous temptation to self-aggrandizement, and we have innumerable traditions which only facilitate it. (Can anyone tell me why Church vans have the pastor’s name written on the side?) Maybe the oft-invoked proverb about iron sharpening iron might actually see some use. Put two egomaniacs in a room and a fight is inevitable. Put two egomaniacs who have the Holy Spirit into a room, and maybe, just maybe, they will both grow in grace. (The odds of that will double if their elders actually care about their Spiritual growth, by the way.)

I am many things, but naïve is not among them. The current state of the OPC has its strengths and problems, and my recommended path will address those problems only to create new problems. But those new problems are not, by God’s grace and the power of the Spirit, insurmountable.

Conflict is an opportunity to glorify God. It’s time for the OPC to take advantage of it.